There he is, my 42 year old, dark, hairy, incredibly handsome lover sitting on the bleachers in the back bar, dressed in a thrift store button down shirt and baggy shorts as if he had just come from Walmart to pick up moth balls. But l know the hot body that lurks beneath, a body l know intimately…

And there am l. Humpy, hairy, but old enough to be his daddy, I’ve already shed my short shorts by the time l’ve spotted him and strut over in my attire of the night, my tight, pouchy, dark blue “Addicted” undergear.

At seventy, l have no shame.

We make out for the audience that surrounds us as a member of Ramrod’s penis police cautions us not to whip out our dicks. He doesn’t know we’ve explored one another’s cocks and a whole lot more dozens of times – in my bedroom.

We go to the front of this already crowded gin joint – by now l’ve convinced him to shed his shirt and go heavenly bare chested – and take possession of the small stage facing the main bar.

And become the fantasy of half the men on the dance floor and everywhere else in eye sight, deep kissing, endlessly stroking, and petting our nips hardwired to our cocks as if we were the only ones in the place.

But decadently know we aren’t.

All eyes are on us, and l love every millisecond of this adoration as does my son-lover. Some grab my tit, other’s my lover’s hairy muscular leg. Circus acrobats have nothing on me as l repeatedly get up and go down like a Jack-in-the-Box, to stretch out my weary limbs but in as lusciously a way as possible.

To be desired is to be loved, and to be loved is to be worshipped.

In between our endless kisses, l tongue my lover’s chest and abs or rub my beard agaInst his stubble as he strokes me and fingers my hairy hole, easily accessible through my underwear We are conscious of all the men, some handsomer than us, staring with slight smiles of delight – or lust – but as far as we’re concerned, we are all alone on our own deliciously alien planet

Around 2 a.m, we part ways – after all tonight had merely been foreplay for our main event later next week – he for Uber, me to my car and home ten minutes away, as l realize that I’ve just experienced perhaps the hottest night i’ve ever spent in a gay bar in my life.

The next morning my young lover texts me and asks if l survived our fantasy fifteen minutes of fame.